The Missing Link

008. The Failed Attempt

8
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AS ZANE prepared to exit the car, the driver beat him to it with swift precision. With a deft flick of his wrist, the driver opened the door, revealing the lively street outside, bathed in the white glow of streetlights and the occasional honk of passing vehicles.

"Thank you," Zane murmured, stepping onto the pavement.

The driver offered a slight nod, silent, before sliding back into his seat. The car rolled forward smoothly, blending into the flow of traffic and disappearing into the suburb's ceaseless rhythm.

Zane stood for a moment, feeling the air around him grow heavier. The unease that had simmered during the ride lingered, gnawing at him. He glanced at his phone, the screen lighting up with another message from the same mysterious number:

Where are you?

"What do you want?" Zane muttered under his breath, the frustration bubbling up as his feet carried him up the stairs.

220. 221. He halted in front of his apartment door, only to realize with a groan that he'd forgotten his key. "Dang it, Zane!"

Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a familiar figure. "Finally!" the woman exclaimed with a small smile on her face. "I thought you'd vanished into thin air. What happened?"

Zane brushed past her, not in the mood to explain. His mind was elsewhere-too full, too scattered. He entered the kitchen silently, the only thing on his mind now was to sit back and hopefully find something to eat for dinner.

"You've been gone for ages. Did someone abduct you?" she quipped, settling onto the long sofa, her eyes flicking towards the blank television.

"Uh, yes," Zane replied, the frustration evident in his voice as he rummaged through the kitchen, his patience fraying.

"Really?" she raised an eyebrow, her sarcasm thinly veiled. "I didn't think I'd be correct. Well, at least you're back after your mysterious vanishing act."

Ignoring her jab, Zane's attention was drawn to the refrigerator. There, neatly encased under a clear lid, was the cake he had been craving all day. He retrieved it, spoon in hand, and made his way back to the living room.

"Why'd you leave so suddenly earlier?" he pressed, his tone softening. "I was actually worried about you, and yet here you are, calm as ever. You haven't even touched your cake."

Zane sat down, taking a slow bite of the cake, letting the sweetness soothe him.

"Oh, the cake! Right!" she exclaimed suddenly, her tone changing as if she'd just remembered something crucial.

Zane paused mid-bite, eyes dropping towards her. "What's so special about the cake?" he asked.

"That cake? Oh, nothing. Feel free to eat it. Just don't touch mine-I'll eat it later," she waved dismissively.

Zane frowned, taking a small bite of the mocha cake. The flavours melted in his mouth, but the nagging sense of something off kept him from enjoying it fully. "How does that relate to what you were saying about the cake?" he mumbled.

"What's the connection?" she echoed, as if the question had caught her off guard. Then her expression darkened, her voice dropping slightly. "Well, it's just that the murderer will strike again tonight. Near this area."

Zane nearly choked, coughing as the bite went down wrong. "W-What are you saying? Who's the target?"

She shrugged, almost too casually for what she stated. "That's the thing, isn't it? Could be anyone. Could be you, could be me. But one thing's for sure-it's going to happen soon."